Valor, Princes, and Bad Guys
by ShatteredAngelWings
Summary: [King!AU] Meet Chloe, quiet, gentle, soft-spoken, a princess with a tendency to hide in the face of trouble. Meet Derek, cold, rude, antisocial, a prince with a fierce protectiveness over those he loves. They're betrothed. How could this go wrong? C/D, S/N, T/L, Ant!R/R, R/L/RA
1. Chapter 1

**Valor, Princes and Bad Guys**

One

Extreme-Valora

_Sometime in the __renaissance_

_Buffalo, New York _

Nineteen-year-old Derek Souza glowered out the window of his carriage as his brother babbled excitedly about meeting cute boys and his sister fussed with his unkempt blonde hair.

Derek kept his mind busy by observing the foreign kingdom. It was cool, not hot like Sacramento; the sun shining upon a bed of blue and dusting of pale clouds gave the illusion of summery heat. The people wore moderately thick gowns and trousers; it was nothing like the breezy gowns and loose trousers of his home.

"Are you excited about meeting your betrothed?" asked Kit, glancing at his massive son. Derek shrugged one shoulder and stared at the warm water under the bridge they rode on.

"Chloe's a nice girl, at least that's what Liz says," Tori butted in, smiling softly as she smoothed down the purple skirts of her gown. Derek barely spared his sister a glance. "She says Chloe's tiny and nice, complete opposite of our cranky, giant Derek," snickered Simon, running his fingers trough his spiked hair. "I'm not cranky," Derek countered calmly before returning to staring out the window.  
What would Princess Chloe of Buffalo be like?

oOo

Fifteen-year-old Chloe ran the brush through her baby-fine hair, the natural streaks of red gleaming in the sunlight. It was the day she'd been scared of: meeting Prince Derek Souza. The idea of finally meeting her betrothed, a rumored brute without emotions, left her stomach in knots. Her father, King Steve, stepped in, smiling sadly, his eyes gazing at her.

"You look so much like her, Chloe," he whispered and her hand wrapped around the blood-red pendant resting against her breastbone. Her long nails stroked the smooth surface. "Yes," she said softly, her voice quiet, "I get that every time I make an appearance even within the walls of my home."

Steve cleared his throat, obviously regretting saying anything. "Your mother would've been very proud. You're a very bright, beautiful young lady, Chloe. Prince Derek will be a lucky man," he told her, reaching out and stroking her curly hair. She smiled weakly. "Your Majesty," called Annette, the maids keeper, peering in with beady black eyes, "Prince Souza has arrived." Chloe gathered her skirts in her hands, fixed on a ladylike smile, and swept out of the room.

Steve held his arm out, which she tremblingly took, while breathing deeply to keep herself from hyperventilating and fainting as they made they way down the grand, marble staircase. There were three men: a tall, black-haired boy with exotic green eyes, a smiling silver-haired man with warm slanted eyes, and an awe-struck almond-eyed boy with spiky, blond hair. There was a girl in a daring purple gown that was staring at her with a smile. She curtsied, her black pixie hair looking blue in the sunlight. Chloe smiled, relaxing as Tori straightened.

"Your Majesty," said the silver-haired man, placing a fist over his heart and bowing deeply. "King Kit," greeted Steve warmly, returning the bow. "This is my son, Simon." Kit gestures to the grinning blonde boy, who bowed and laughed when he saw Chloe's face.

"Good afternoon, Princess Chloe." His voice was high-pitched and she bit her lip to keep from laughing as she curtsied, keeping her eyes on the muscular legs of the last boy. "Tori." The girl in question curtsied and grinned at Chloe in a very unladylike manner. "Your majesty, this is my oldest son, Derek; Chloe's betrothed."

She curtsied again and the black-haired boy bowed, his hand clasping Chloe's. His skin was like fire, burning her in a delicious, unknown way. "Pleasure to meet you," he said against the skin of her hand, his lips warm and moist against it, sending her skin skittering with goosebumps. She stared at him.

Derek wasn't handsome in the way Simon was but he had the most beautiful eyes and long eyelashes; his lips were full and pink; his nose was set crookedly in the slightest and his hair fell in wind-tossed sheets around his sharp, angular face. His skin was sun-kissed, a nice, golden color; his hair was the color of ebony; his cheeks were pink with a rosy hue, probably from his intense acne sprinkling his cheeks.

He was very tall, around six feet and perhaps well over; he was also extremely broad, about the width of her bedroom door. His limbs were long; his hands and were twice the size of hers. She felt like a tiny, fragile doll compared to him and she felt her face flame at the thought of him seeing her scrawny body.

"Pleasure is all mine, Prince Derek," she managed to squeak out without looking like an idiot or stuttering.

oOo

Derek drank in the sight of his betrothed. She was small and thin, much like a young girl. She was pale, like porcelain and her features were dainty, like a fairy. Her blue, blue eyes were big and framed by long, pale eyelashes that matched her strawberry blonde curls; her nose was tiny and slightly up-turned with a dusting of freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose; her cheeks were pink, like a rose, as though she'd been pinched. Her heart-shaped lips were spread in a smile that made his hands sweat. White teeth peeked out like pearls.

He absently heard his father saying something but he was too focused on the girl, this beautiful, dainty woman like a fairytale princess, his betrothed.

Her gown was simple. It was a pale, pale blue gown with long sleeves that cut across her small shoulders. The bodice was a black with brown laces.

She ducked her head down, like she was embarrassed and he wanted so very badly to scoop her up and kiss the blush away from her lovely face. Her hand squeezed his—or was it his imagination?—and she smiled softly, brushing a curl away from her face. As she moved to follow her father into the dining hall, she glanced back at him.

"Come along, Prince Derek," she said in a soft, musical voice that riled feelings long lost ago. He knew he was staring but he didn't care.

oOo

Derek's eyes burned a hole in the back of her head as he glared at her. Chloe clenched her cloth napkin in her lap as she waited for dinner; Tori was twittering with Simon, too low for her to join in and Derek was staring at her. He sat on her right; Tori and Simon across from her with their father; and Steve across from Kit.

Chloe peeked out from behind her curls to find Derek's eccentric eyes staring at her with an intensity that could melt ice. He wasn't exactly _glaring _at her; he was just staring, his hands laced together and his cheek resting on the bridge his fingers made.

It was really beginning to unnerve her. She fiddled with her napkin. The expression on his face reminded her of a child on Christmas Day, opening presents: part awe, part adoration, part…something she'd only heard whispers of. Where was the cold man she'd heard of?

"Derek," hissed Tori and his jaw twitched, a muscle jumping. She saw him drop his arms and discreetly rub his leg. Tori had kicked him. Chloe bit her lip to keep from laughing but a little snort escaped despite her efforts to keep quiet and ladylike. "So, Chloe—" Tori leaned forward, hands propping up her pointed face.

"Princess Chloe," corrected Kit with a stern look. The dark-haired princess snorted. "I-i-it's o-okay," Chloe blurted out and immediately slouched a little lower in her seat, wishing the cushions would swallow her up as all eyes turned to her.

She could hear Rachelle's voice when they were younger: Real _princesses don't stutter like a peasant, _she had told Chloe with a sneer and "accidentally" knocked the teapot onto the brand new dress that her mother had bought. Chloe had sat there and cried until her mother came in and told Rae, in a very strange, cold voice, to leave, that the meeting between Steve and Asmondai was over. Jacinda collected her daughter and, with a soft smile at the Saunders women, left, her coppery braids bouncing along her back as Rachelle glowered out from her mother's skirts.

"Why don't you show the Souzas around?"

"Enright," Tori spat out. "My last name is Enright." Steve looked a little taken aback and Tori glared at him until Chloe sent a tiny smile in the other girl's direction. She relaxed and gave Chloe's foot a nudge with a quirky grin; Simon let out a loud guffaw.

"I will."

She set her napkin on the table, folded like a lady should, and her chair was pulled back by Derek, making her cheeks warm. "Thank you, Prince Derek," she managed to say without making a fool of herself _too _much. He nodded and helped her to her feet, his warm, big hand nearly swallowing hers.

Their hands fit like puzzle pieces.

It was as he held the door open for everyone and he took her hand again, looking very charming and mysterious, that he said something. His voice was nothing but a low rumble, like distant thunder.

"Derek."

His exotic eyes met hers, full of secrets and lust and passion but also guarding something she couldn't quite decipher yet.

"Call me Derek."


	2. Chapter 2

**Valor, Princes and Bad Guys **

Two

Shounen Brave (English Cover)-JubyPhonic 

The air was cool and dry as Chloe led them down the marble steps of the castle. Derek had let go of her hand, unfortunately; she was still curious as to _where _that cold man she'd heard about was.

"Hello, Chloe," said a voice. Chloe's skin prickled as she looked up from the ground to find a dark-skinned, copper-haired girl standing there. Rachelle. Her brown skirts swished against the cobblestone. A gemstone-encrusted necklace sat on her large breasts and Chloe thought it looked gaunty. Rachelle fluttered her eyelashes at Derek.

Chloe shifted a tiny bit closer to him, feeling the heat of his arm brush her sleeve. She relaxed as his fingers brushed hers once, twice. "Hello, Rachelle," Chloe replied in what she hoped was a calm voice as she curtsied—princesses curtsy to each other, Jennifer had told her one afternoon—and then straightened up.

"Who's this handsome fellow?" asked Rachelle, her dark eyes eyeballing Derek. "I'm Simon," blurted out the blonde. Tori elbowed him. "Tori," the dark-haired girl yawned out in a bored tone, examining her long, pretty nails. "This D-D-Derek," Chloe squeaked, letting her arm rest against his. His bicep was hard muscle.

"Her betrothed," Tori butted in, spite and dislike layering her words. Rachelle's eyes narrowed at her. And then she flashed a sugary smile that made Chloe's stomach knot up. That smile, she recognized as Rachelle chatted up Derek, promised trouble with a capital T.

oOo

Rachelle tagged along. Chloe sighed as she fixed her hair in the store window; the wind had messed it up after the painstaking hours Liz had taken to fix it. "Your hair looks fine," said a voice behind her and she saw Tori in the reflection.

Tori was beautiful, Chloe mused as she turned to the other girl. Her dark hair hung at neck-length and shone blue-black in the light; her skin was golden and she was slim, like a ballerina; she could've doubled as one with her grace. "You look beautiful," the strawberry-blonde blurted and felt her cheeks warm.

"Thank you." Tori was grinning like a boy as she mock-curtsied. "Looks like that bi—witch is getting up close with Derek," she observed, her eyes distastefully eyeballing the girl in question. Rachelle hadn't taken her eyes off Chloe's betrothed once since she arrived and it was beginning to grate on Chloe's nerves.

Derek, for his part, seemed more interested in speaking with his brother. He kept dislodging Rachelle from his arm and she stomped her foot like a child. She smiled. "He's not that bad," Chloe whispered, watching the sun glint off his raven hair. He looked like a gothic angel.

"Yeah. He's a total softie," laughed the dark-haired girl as she looped Chloe's arm through hers. They made their way to the group, Tori chattering her ear off and making the blonde relax and laugh in a loud, guffawing way.

Rachelle flashed her a dark, disgusted look and any happiness Chloe felt evaporated; she felt her hands trembling as Simon waved to her with a funny face. She couldn't seem to smile. "You okay?" Tori whispered in her ear.

Chloe glanced at Rachelle. "She's just being herself," she admitted shyly. "Chloe," Derek rumbled, making her jump out of her skin. His green, green eyes pierced her and her heart pounded like a drum; she gave Tori a wide-eyed look before obeying.

"Yes?"

"We found a puppy," Simon said with a smile. The dog was very thin and shied away from Derek, Simon and Rachelle. "Filthy mutt," she hissed under her breath. Chloe gave Rachelle an angry look, as did Derek. The dog was small, a puppy still, with a torn up ear and dirt clinging to its short coat. A nasty gash ran across its forehead.

It whined and shrank back, tail tucked between his legs. Derek motioned the others to step back and Rachelle took the opportunity to press herself against his arm, pretending to be frightened. He shook her off.

Chloe crouched down and held out a hand to the frightened animal. He growled at her, scared eyes staring up at her. "Come here, I won't hurt you," she whispered to him. His eyes locked on Rachelle and his fur stood on end, teeth bared. "Well, I'm not sure about _her _but the rest of us won't," she admitted with a smile.

The dog approached and then snapped his teeth at Rachelle, loud growls emitting deep from his throat. Chloe let her fingers brush the dog's forehead and he relaxed, calming down, his fur laying flat again. He whined and his tail wagged when Derek stooped down beside her, having shaken off Rachelle.

Tori let out a loud laugh.

"I'm taking you home," Chloe told the dog and scooped him up, feeling him lick her face. She laughed and she felt like a little girl again, her mother smiling as she played with some stray's puppies. She turned to Simon and Tori and Simon let out a very loud guffaw, a grin lighting up his handsome face.

"_Real _princesses don't fraternize with filthy, flea-ridden animals," sniffed Rachelle. Chloe rolled her eyes. "Real princesses are kind, not snooty," Tori snapped, her eyes alive with anger. Rachelle gave Tori a dark look.

"I think it would be b-best if we got going, Rachelle," Chloe suggested and it certainly didn't earn the dark, evil look it got. When she shrank back, she felt Derek against her.

"It was nice meeting you," Simon was saying as they began their way back to the castle. Rachelle let out a little huff.

"Well," Tori grumbled as Chloe stroked the dog's soft, soft fur, "she was a total _bitch_." A weak smile rose on Chloe's lips. "We used to be friends," she murmured as Derek's arm bumped her, warm and solid. She glanced up at him, and her cheeks warmed.

He was staring down at her, pieces of black hair hanging lank in his eyes. There was an unreadable look in his gaze, something that made her stomach knot up and her mouth go dry, her heart pound. Was it fear or something else?

He reached out, his big, veiny hand massive, and stroked the dog under the chin. The pup let out this little grunting sound and relaxed, staring up trustingly at them. It had hazel eyes.

"Good girl," he told her and Chloe's face flamed as she realized, watching him stride up to Simon to talk and leaving her with Tori, that he had been referring to her!

Tori laughed at the bright red blush on the blonde girl's cheeks. "You two are so cute."


	3. Chapter 3

**Valore, Princes, and Bad Guys**

Three

Snape VS Snape-Ministry of Magic

Chloe woke with a painful fullness of her bladder. Grumbling to herself, she donned her dressing gown, taking care not to wake Tori, and made her way to the bathroom. Once she was done and had washed her hands, she headed downstairs, seeing as now she was awake, she wouldn't be able to fall asleep again.

The tiled floor was chilly and made her hug herself tightly; her mind darted back to her slippers up in the room. She had just barely passed the drawing room when she heard it: soft breathing. A living person. Holding her breath, she peered around the doorway of the drawing room and saw a glimpse of a tall, muscular figure.

"Lurking in doorways isn't very nice, Chloe," mused a deep voice. He sounded amused. Feeling her cheeks flame, the girl stepped into the room to find Derek, wearing trousers and a loose linen shirt, but his feet were bare. In hands he held something, a piece of jewelry.

"I was supposed to give this to you upon first sight," he explained, his eyes cast towards the looming moon.

Outside, it was black as night, with feathery clouds and a fingernail of a moon, casting a silvery hue over everything it touched. It looked almost like it would in winter; silver-white laced the landscape below, almost like snow.

"What is it?" Her voice came out breathless and squeaky; not princess like at all. Clearing her throat, she tried again but was cut off by a rumbling sound that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

"A ring."

The little band of gold with a diamond turned over and over in his massive fingers; she stepped closer until they were almost a hair's length away. "It's simple but pretty," she admitted quietly. "Kind of like you," he said.

Her cheeks flamed at the half compliment. "You're beautiful," he continued, much to her embarrassment and joy, "without any makeup. You don't style your hair ridiculously or wear vast amount of jewelry or clothes meant to be worn in a brothel. You have this—" He seemed to struggle for a word. "—Innocence. You're a natural beauty, a natural innocent…"

Chloe ducked her head down, cheeks _really _burning now. "You're different, Chloe, and I lo—like that about you. I like it a lot. I liked the way your face lit up when you picked up that dog this morning, your pretty blue eyes twinkling like a child's on Christmas." There was a silence for the longest time and then, Derek stood and stepped very close to her.

"Chloe?"

"Hmm?"

He got down on one knee and she wanted to laugh hysterically. "Chloe, will you marry me?" She wanted to hit him, say it didn't matter. But when she looked up into his eyes, the vulnerability there, the openness that he never seemed to quite unfurl around anyone else, she couldn't breathe.

"Y-yes," she managed to choke out. He rose to his feet and slipped the ring on her finger; it felt heavy but nice. Warm, like his hands. "We should get to bed," he suggested quietly and he sounded different; he sounded cold and emotionless.

He was polite and held the door for her and she tried to chatter with him but when he turned his cloudy green eyes to her, clouded with a whirlwind of emotions, she quieted down and stared at the ring on her hand. She was getting married to a man. A man with a confusing personality; one minute he was kind, open with her, laughing; the next, he was cold, distant, unsmiling.

The abrupt change in his attitude upset her so much that when they parted at the adjoined hallway that ran adjacent to the servant's hall, she didn't bid him a goodnight. She didn't hear his goodnight.

Instead, she thought and thought and thought. She thought about every possibility of why he changed his mood so abruptly; it wasn't like him.

She was out like a light as she climbed into bed.

oOo

"So you're going home today?" Chloe asked quietly; she really didn't want to be alone. Derek grunted. "Yeah." For a few minutes, the silence stretched between them, a wide, gaping black chasm.

"Chloe, are you packed?" came her father's voice. Her head swung his way, a confused expression dominating her face. "Why would I need to p-pack?" she asked. Beside her, Derek stiffened as though he knew something she didn't.

"You'll be joining them until the marriage ceremony." The floor rushed out from beneath her and her legs stopped supporting her; Derek caught her in his arms. "Chloe, I meant to tell you," Steve said softly. A growl rose from her betrothed's chest and vibrated against her cheek; she curled up slightly.

"Derek!" came Tori's voice somewhere behind them. Chloe felt her eyelids slip down, like shades; she was feeling terribly ill like she'd be sick. Why hadn't anyone told her? She obviously needed to know. Her head was swimming as Derek's hand touched her face, brushed away her hair.

Chloe never thought herself to be the fainting type of girl. Hell, she'd only fainted once and that was because her corset had been too tight! She didn't swoon when a boy winked at her or flirted; she didn't get "adorably flustered"—she got sweaty under the armpits and stuttered like a moron and accidentally stepped on the guy's foot with her heel and break his big toe.

That was Chloe. That was the way she was. She rested her cheek on Derek's chest and listened to the _b-bump, b-bump, b-bump _of his heartbeat, like a heavy bass during an orchestra concerto.

His hands rubbed her arms, making her relax. He smelled like pine needles and perspiration and she nestled her face deeper into his chest. His hand never paused in stroking her hair; it felt comforting and it made her drowsy.

Realizing she was fighting to stay awake, she tried to wake herself up. "Ssh, you're safe," he whispered as she slipped under.

No one even noticed Rachelle watching them with narrow eyes as they rode away.


	4. Chapter 4

**Valor, Princes, and Bad Guys**

Four

Valley of the Dolls-Marina & The Diamonds

She woke up in Derek's hard arms, feeling her face warming when he glanced down and met her gaze. "You're awake," he said, surprise lacing his voice as she looked over his shoulder. Tori waggled her eyebrows at Chloe and the blonde choked a laugh, her face feeling as though it was on fire.

Worry creased Derek's forehead. "Are you okay?" he asked. She nodded as his hand stroked her hair; it was heavy and it made her feel safe, wanted—loved, even.

She relaxed and fell asleep rather quickly.

oOo

It was mid afternoon when she woke up again, finding a heavy weight resting on her leads. She sat up, brushing away her tangled hair, and her heart melted at the sight.

The dog, Martin Tori called him, was curled up against Derek's arm and Derek was using her legs as a pillow. He wore a light, white shirt and trousers; his feet were bare. His hair was long and curled at the nape of his neck but he'd brushed the overgrown fringe of his bangs back and he looked charming. Handsomer.

"He wouldn't leave your side," said a voice and Chloe looked up, embarrassed. She relaxed when she saw it was Tori, dressed in a loose fitting gown that bared her smooth shoulders and sharp collarbone.

"Really?" Chloe's hand found Derek's silky hair and she stroked, feeling him shift closer to her hand in his sleep. He shuddered and his breathing hitched but evened out slowly; he really was asleep.

"Yeah."

Tori crossed the room and scooped up Martin. The pup whined at being woken and squirmed in her arms but she shushed him and rocked him like a baby. He yawned sleepily and settled down, nestling his face into the crook of her arm.

Chloe felt a spike of something, a nameless emotion that tasted sour on her tongue, as she stroked her betrothed's hair. It was thick and silky, so unlike her baby-fine hair; she wanted to bury her face in it.

He stirred under her hands and she froze as his eyelids fluttered open and he snarled a yawn; the image of a wolf yawning came to mind, for that's what he looked like. His sleepy, green eyes met hers and all she could feel was the heat.

"You're awake." Surprise laced her voice as she watched him sit up, stretching out his muscles. "Sorry 'bout that," he muttered and the tips of his ears turned red. Chloe smiled. "I didn't mind." _The pressure of your head on my legs felt rather nice, _she mused to herself.

Derek looked around and his leg bounced like he was anxious. "I'm supposed to show you around," he said after a moment. Chloe nodded and pushed back the comforter; her bare feet touched the ground. "Where…?"

"Here."

Derek took her by the hand and sat her down; she felt like Cinderella as he got down on his hands and knees and swept an arm under her bed and pulled out a pair of comfortable looking shoes…that didn't match her dress at all. He slipped the flats onto her feet, one hand wiggling the shoe on, the other holding her calf and she felt a spark of heat run through her face.

Embarrassed, she turned to Tori but the other girl had left; Chloe turned back to Derek, who'd stood up now and was waiting with an—an annoyed look on his face!

Feeling a bit hurt, and pissed to be quite frank, Chloe got to her feet and stayed behind him. Her mind was churning and churning just like her anxious stomach; she wiped at her eyes with a scowl and kept her mouth shut when he tried to engage her in conversation.

oOo

"And this is a bakery. We have lots of them here," he was saying as she picked up her skirts and turned to look into the window. A woman in a yellow coat was setting out warm loaves of bread and, when she caught sight of Chloe, she waved.

Chloe waved back with a smile and didn't notice Derek stiffening. He took her by the elbow and steered her away with a nod of acknowledgement to the yellow coat woman, who beamed even brighter and waved furiously.

"H-hey," the princess stuttered out, her mind racing as anger spiked in her chest. She tried to yank her arm away but his other hand wrapped around her other elbow and then he stood still, his breathing right in her ear.

All her anger vanished and all she could hear and smell and just _feel _was him, feel his arms around her, smell his soft perspiration, hear his heavy breathing in her hear, feel the thumping of his heart against her back, feel his hard muscles against her body, feel his entire body. She melted against him and her one half of her mind was screaming _don't! He's angry with you! _and the other half thought, _damn it all! He feels so good and nice and he smells wonderful. _

"You've been very…distant with me. What's wrong?" Derek rumbled in her ear. She squirmed. His chin dug into her shoulder. "Y-Y-You t-think I'm annoying," she admitted and felt her face flame when he chuckled, vibrating through her entire body. "I'm not a fan of the hot weather here. Sweating isn't very…attractive for princes." His nose wrinkled and she felt all the anger rush out of her toes.

"So if that's what you're angry about…" He trailed off as a voice sneered behind them, "Hello, Mutt. Who's the cutie?" Chloe's blood chilled as Derek stiffened against her, muscles taut, ready to fight, ready to flee if necessary. How long had it been since she heard that voice? How long had it been since her mother died and Rachelle abandoned her to seek refuge—_and companionship_, she added with a wrinkle of her nose—under _him?_

Chloe turned and Derek's grip on her tightened, nearly crushing but still comforting. The boys behind them were all tall and muscular, although the swarthy-dark-haired one was a bit shorter and broader. On the other side was a blonde with a red handkerchief tied round his throat. And in the middle was a dark-skinned boy with malicious eyes.

"Hello, Royce. Long time no see," Chloe said.


	5. Chapter 5

**Valore, Princes, and Bad Guys**

Five

All Around Me (Acoustic)-Flyleaf

Royce's lip curled at them. "Yeah, I suppose so," he responded as Liam licked his lips like a damn dog. Chloe felt a wave of disgust and anger; Derek's arms tightened around her.

"Oh, nice ring," laughed a scratchy voice. Rachelle stepped around the corner, dressed in the clothes of a concubine, her breasts nearly spilling out of the top of her dress.

"Where did Princey get it? His family vault?" she sneered. Chloe stepped back. Derek's grip on her was painful. His blunt nails dug half-crescents into her skin. "Move aside please," Derek said in a low growl.

"I don't _think_ so," Royce snipped as he wound an arm around Rachelle's plump waist; Chloe's sweaty hand found Derek's in a blind grope. "We're going to make your lives _a living hell_," Royce sang and, without warning, Liam and Ramon charged. Chloe screamed as Derek shoved her hard, in the direction of the castle.

"Go!" he bellowed at her and she wanted to take off, hoist her skirts up and escape but anger burned inside of her chest. How _dare _they come here and try ruin everything? "Rachelle," she called and the girl whipped around, anger flaring in her eyes, "Why do you want to hurt my fiancé and I? I have done _nothing _to you."

"You were _always _the golden girl, perfect, helpless Chloe," she snarled, "oh I'm so helpless and dainty and fucking perfect!" She launched herself at Chloe and they hit the ground; Chloe's head cracked against the cobblestone and hear vision faded to black for a split second.

All she could hear was Derek's snarling. Rachelle's hands ripped at her hair, clawed at her skin. When her vision blurrily came back, Chloe could hear Rachelle screaming as her weight was lifted. Her boot scraped Chloe's cheek. "We'll be back. Liam, Ramon! Come!"

They disappeared and Chloe could hear Derek gasping and panting; the smell of vomit and blood punctuated the air. She blinked hard and her foggy vision cleared; Derek was on his knees, blood dripping out of his mouth as he heaved, or, well, tried not to.

She crawled over to him; her face stinging and she pushed him onto his side. "Ssh, they're gone," she whispered, brushing sweaty hair out of his pallor face as he coughed. "Managed to get a few…hits," he sputtered out and blood ran down his lips.

Tears filled Chloe's eyes as she grabbed his arm and pushed with her feet. He swayed against her and his breath stank of blood. She wiped at his mouth her a torn piece of her skirt.

One of his eyes was swelling. Was there dirt in it? His nose was dripping blood. Broken? Scratches and cuts littered his skin, bleeding and gleaming. Infected? He told her that his ribs were a bit tender and she peeked under his shirt and saw the big boot print bruises. Thunder cracked overhead and it began to pour.

"At least we'll b-be semiclean," she mused and he laughed and then pulled a pained face and clutched his sides. "Shouldn't do that," he muttered as the rain washed away the blood. His mouth dropped open and rain filled it; he spat it away, onto the cobblestone. Chloe's dress was soaked and her hair clung to her neck, dripping down her back; her clothes were heavy.

"Derek—oh my god! What happened?" Tori shrieked when they came closer. Chloe slipped and they went down on the steps. Her chin hit the granite but she couldn't pay attention to the pain; she focused on Derek. He lay there, still, staring up calmly at the rain.

"Derek?" she whimpered in a weak voice. "Derek?" she asked, louder, more afraid, when he didn't reply. "Derek! Derek, wake up…answer me…p-please…" she begged and shook him, tears mixing with rain pouring down onto her. Her bangs lay flat against her eyes.

"I'm fine," he grunted when his eyes blinked suddenly and he moved, sat up. He looked at Tori, at his bloody shirt, and then at Chloe, who was bawling her eyes out. "Hey, hey, ssh." He took her wrist and pulled her against his wet chest. "Don't cry on my account," he mused into her damp ear.

oOo

After changing into a dry gown and washing herself thoroughly, Chloe made her way down the staircase and found Derek sitting on the bottom step, his wet hair slick, dripping water down his broad back. He wore a pair of trousers and not much else. His feet were bare. The bruises littering his skin made her want to cry but she steeled herself and set her fluffy, pink towel across his shoulders.

His head whipped around and she saw his nose was swollen still but he had all his teeth, albeit a bit bloody, and his mouth had stopped bleeding. His black eye was going down.

He held his arms out to her and she took his hand, their engagement rings gleaming in the sunlight pouring through the windows, and sank down into his embrace. He smelled like freshly mowed grass and citrus and something else, something that all his own scent. She kissed a bruise on his collarbone and stroked his hair, as she kissed his bruises, not minding in the slightest.

"I'm sorry," he said after a moment when she rested beside him, fingers interlocked, laying on his knee. She looked at him, confusion written on her face.

Derek raked his thick, long fingers through his hair and a faint scar flashed silvery in the light. "Royce has been hounding me ever since he got into with Simon a few years ago and I-I broke one of the kid's back." She stroked his hand with her thumb. "Derek, don't blame yourself. He's a scumbag, always has been. When Rachelle and I were friends, she met him at a party and they hit it off. Too bad he wanted me too. She fell in love with him and dumped me after my mother passed when I said no to him wanting to bed me."

She shuddered and stared into his eyes lovingly. "He won't touch you. Over my dead body." She smiled. "Now, tell me, where did you get this scar from?" she asked, referring to the faint scar on his hand.

He launched into the terrifying tale of the killer Chihuahua when he was fourteen.


	6. Chapter 6

Warning: Abuse and light sexual implications

Also: Anti! Royce/Rae; Rae/Liam/Ramon (OT3!)

* * *

**V****alore, Princes, and Bad Guys**

Six

Nightmare Night-The Living Tombstone

Rachelle, Royce, Liam and Ramon disappeared that night and the police were unable to find them after. It was like they'd never existed. "No records, no bank withdraws, no sightings," drawled out Liam, sitting on a rum crate as he sipped his whiskey.

Ramon whittled away with his compact knife, slivers lining the toes of his work boots. "Mm," he hummed in response to his partner. "And it'll _stay_ like that!" yelled out Royce as he yanked Rachelle into the light. Her face was covered with bruises and her nose dripped blood down to her nude body; there were scars all over her, from years of abuse.

He threw Rachelle down in front of his men. "Did I not tell you to stay _inside_?" he hissed and Liam watched the trembling girl with a flash of sympathy. She looked so pitiful, with her broken nose and bloodied lips, her naked body curled up on herself as Royce rained down his wrath. "Filthy bitch," he snarled and kicked her in the head.

Tears ran down her face when her head jerked towards the two men.

Liam leapt to his feet. "Why don't you go cool off, boss?" Ramon suggested. Royce's lip curled but he fixed his jacket's collar and stalked away; a door slammed shut. Liam crouched down beside the battered girl and took off his jacket; he wrapped her in it and pulled her to her feet.

She could barely stand.

"Come on, old girl," he said softly as he stroked her matted hair away from her face. A blood shot eye rolled towards him; the other one was swollen shut. Liam felt gorge rise in his throat at the sight of such a beautiful, sharp girl being reduced to this, blinded by hate and love.

"I've drawn a bath," Ramon called from the washroom. Steam clouded the mirror as the two men helped Rachelle out of Liam's jacket and into the warm tub of water. "There, beautiful, better?" Ramon whispered, stroking a damp hand across her bruised face.

Rachelle whimpered in response as their soft, but greedy hands washed away the abuse and hate of Royce. "I'm going to rinse out your hair," Liam said and poured a cup of water over her head. The water ran bloody and pink as the two men scrubbed away the filth, makeup and blood away from her brown skin.

"I'm sorry," she whispered finally, her voice raw and thick from a spit lip. "I went out. I needed something." She stared up at them with big, brown eyes. Liam shushed her and stroked her neck, his finger trailing to her collarbone. A sharp, puckered scar was near her neck, a knife wound.

"Royce caught me coming back in," she continued softly, her voice hoarse and whispery. "He got so mad. I'd…I'd stolen some shears. My hair's getting too long and Royce doesn't like my long hair—"

"Your hair is beautiful, sweetie," Liam cut in sharply. "Just like the rest of you," added Ramon as he unplugged the bathtub and Liam unfolded a towel for her step into. After wrapping her up, they took her up to her room and sat with her on the bed, Ramon untwisting her millions of braids gently, Liam drying her off. Rachelle laughed loudly. "I'm not…beautiful," she rasped, her bloodshot eyes filled with tears. Scraped hands came up and covered her face; her nails were chipped and ragged and dirty.

"Rae," the men said sharply and she looked up at them, fear written across her face, "You are beautiful." Liam kissed her shoulder. There was a burn mark from a cigarette. "Funny." Ramon kissed behind her ear, making her shiver.

"Smart." Liam's lips trailed to her collarbone. "Sexy." The quiet man's mouth brushed her temple, a whisper of touch. "You're just misguided," they said. "We'll set you straight. You'll see." After they dressed her, Liam stroked her long, beautiful hair.

"You're ours," he sighed into her hair. Ramon kissed her neck. "Ours," the blonde's dark counterpart growled.

oOo

Royce pulled up his trousers and fixed himself while the harlot collected her money and pulled on her dress. "Thank you, Mr. Banks," she purred dangerously and swayed out the door, her shapely bum drawing his attention away from fixing himself up.

That little bitch, Rachelle, had gone and done what he told her not to! She deserved every hit she got. Royce's lip curled as he slicked back hair and mused it just so. He wiped away the stink of sex from his person and pulled on his jacket.

The night sky twinkled above him and the moon poured down milky beams of light, illuminating his way to the abandoned warehouse they were residing in. His anger had simmered down but was growing, hot and fast, inside his stomach. How _dare _the little wench disobey his _direct _orders? Liam and Ramon followed them; why couldn't she? Was she _that _desperate for physical contact that she disobeyed him and made him hit her?

Yes.

She wanted his attention but he refused to give it to her; the only way she would get it was if she angered him. He used her as he pleased because, well, that's all that the ex-princess was good for. Royce laughed into the night, a barking noise that made several dogs bark angrily in response.

She'd come crawling back like the little slut she was, crying, begging for him to take her back, like always and he would.

He'd take her back and she'd make him angry again and he'd hit her, she'd crawl away to lick her wounds and then they'd repeat the cycle again. Love, anger, abuse, retreat, love, anger, abuse, retreat, apology (Yes, I'msorry. Iwon'tdoitagain. Iloveyou. Forgiveme.) and then she'd fall in love with him again and he'd get things his way. Always.

Snorting at the girl's stupidity and naivety, he continued on his walk. _And then there's Chloe. _Ah, yes. The little blonde chit who'd escaped him so many times. _Her time will come soon. Very soon, _he thought with a scowl.

As he approached the warehouse, he saw the lights in Rachelle's room were off. She probably fell asleep waiting for him to come home.

Like always.


	7. Chapter 7

**Valore, Princes, and Bad Guys**

Seven

All That I'm Living For-Evanescence 

Week after week flew by without another sighting of Royce and his groupies. Things settled down. Chloe adjusted to Derek's kingdom and their wounds healed.

"Chloe?" Derek peeked into the drawing room to find her curled up on the reading nook, an open book untouched in her lap and her head tilted towards the window. Her reflection was sad, like a lonely princess shut up in a horrible castle with a horrible beast of a man.

"Chloe?" he repeated, stepping into the room. Goosebumps rose across his tanned skin as the cold seeped through the floorboards. They creaked under his weight but still; she didn't turn to him or notice his presence.

He walked closer, until he was looming behind her. Her sky-blue eyes were dull, lifeless. She looked like a doll, her hair curled around her porcelain face, staring unblinkingly out the window at the bustling world below.

"What's wrong?"

Slowly, she blinked. A tear slid down her cheek. She brushed it away and turned; she yelped when she caught sight of him. Her eyes flashed with fear and uncertainty as she stared up at him. "D-D—"

"What's wrong?" he asked.

She turned to her book, smiling softly. It was a solemn smile, though. "Nothing," she murmured but he couldn't—no, he _wouldn't_—let it go. He knelt down beside her and sat down, scooting her over. His fingers pried away her book. "Tell me," he demanded.

Her smile wavered and her lips quivered. "Please, Derek, it's—" She froze when his hand brushed across her jugular, pushing away loose curls. Her bloodshot eyes rolled up to his. "You've been crying," he said softly; stroking the skin underneath her eye, worry flaring up inside of him.

"Really, i-it's nothing," she whispered and anger spiked through him. "Chloe, I-I l—care for you very strongly and I want to make you feel better so tell me," he gritted out, hoping he didn't sound _too _forceful.

Her sad eyes flickered to the window and he saw her expression shift. "My mom…tomorrow would've been my mom's birthday," she murmured quietly, reaching a hand over his. Her skin was smooth and cold, like a china doll; he gripped her cheek tighter.

"I'm sure your mother would be proud," he blurted. A little laughter filled her eyes as she smiled. "I know," she murmured, eyes full of sadness, her entire body radiating it, "I know."

They remained like that until she fell asleep, her head against his shoulder. Her book fell from her lap. _The Adventure of Huckleberry Finn. _He kissed her temple, the sight of her sleeping tugging at his heartstrings.

oOo

"Derek?"

The door creaked as she slipped in. He rolled onto his side and feigned sleeping; he watched her slip in through his eyelashes. Her pink, lace nightgown gave her a modest, almost childish look but she was his, regardless of her youthful appearance. She looked out of place in the darkness of his room, like a child's toy. She treaded lightly, the hem of her gown coiled tight in her small hands.

"Derek?" she repeated and there was a tremor in her voice. He opened his eyes and she squawked, stumbling back, tripping over her feet, her face resembling a tomato. "What's wrong?" he asked softly, sitting up. The sheet pooled at his waist and he knew she was gawking at his muscles.

A chuckle rose in his throat. "Chloe?" She squeaked and her eyes snapped to his face and then tension melted out of her shoulders. "I-I-I—" She stopped, took a deep breath and restarted. "I-I had a ni-nightmare," she whispered and he softened, holding his arms out.

She scurried into them and her scent, clean and fresh, tickled his senses. She was warm against him. "M-My mom…" she began, once they settled down. "…My m-mom died w-when I was twelve. Brain cancer." A pause as she shuffled closer, pressing her face firmly into his chest and that was all there was, her breathing against his skin, beads of moisture condensing.

"My dad was heartbroken. I'm like a puppy he loves very dearly but doesn't know what to do with," she explained as Derek stroked her hair. Her hair was soft and baby-fine, so light and fluffy; he could stroke her hair all day and be content.

"My aunt hates me. She th-thinks he's n-not a good parent s-so she sm-smothers me," Chloe murmured as they lay there, hands interlocked. Her fingers rested on his chest, cool under his warm hands; he kissed the backs of her knuckles and she flushed beautifully.

He loved making her flush.

"H-he'd let me d-do what I want, f-follow my dreams; she pu-pushes her damn dreams on me, h-her wants, w-what _she _thinks I s-should do." She grunted as she buried her face in his chest, playing with the hair there. "Ow, will you quit that?" he asked, playfully snapping.

"S-sorry." She lowered her ear to his chest.

"Love, don't worry." His fingers tangled in her hair. Her breathing was rhythmic, like a lullaby, a heartbeat, drumming. _One, _breath, _two, _breath, _three, _breath. "Chloe?" _One, _breath "How about tomorrow we visit your mom's grave?" _two, _breathe. Silence. "Chloe?" _four, _breathe.

Silence.

"I want to visit your mother's grave, on her birthday." A sigh, a shift in her position. Her soft legs rubbed against his hairy ones. Her head rose, bleary eyes watching him closely. Her hair was tangled around her head, a wild crown of red-blonde hair that looked like pastel fire.

Her blue eyes were bleary with sleep. Half of her mouth tilted up, a half-smile, half-awake, half-asleep. When she settled back down, her arms looped around his waist.

_One, _breathe, _two, _breathe, _three, _breath. One, _breathe, _two, _breathe, _three, _breathe. _One—

"I'd like that." The bedsheets rustled as she settled back down, tucking her legs behind the backs of his knees. He breathed into her hair, that soft, crisp scent of skin and hair but something else, something entirely Chloe.

He fell asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

This chapter is so horrible, isn't it? I tried for cute but ended up a bit angsty and I don't even…Thank you guys for all the reviews and love and don't forget they feed my brain so stop by and comment!

Also a thanks to : **Jessibarrios **about the jealousy scene; I tried to work it in.

* * *

**Valore, Princes, and Bad Guys**

Eight

Kiss It All Better-He Is We

"Oh, these flowers are beautiful," Chloe whispered as she held the bouquet to her chest, blissfully ignorant of the stares she was getting. Derek was glowering at everyone, mainly the men who gawked at her like she was a Lolita doll, a pretty princess to play with, with her frilly skirts and bouncing hair and stockings and Sunday best shoes.

"Lilies. She loved Lilies." Chloe stroked a drop of dew off the petals tenderly, like stroking a babe's face. "Lilies are beautiful," she sighed, turning to smile at him.

She startled when she saw his dark glower. "D-Derek?" she asked, fear perforating in her voice. His eyes flickered down and softened; several of the women surrounding them fawned excitedly over the cold prince's affection.

"The men are staring at you," he whispered through grinding teeth, "like they want to slide their filthy hands under your skirts and unwrap you." He kissed her shoulder hard. His lips burned and ignited a fire under her skin.

"They're making me angry," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. She felt him trail his fingers along her jaw, brush away an escaped curl.

His fingertips were rough, not smooth like her father's, a working man's hands, a peasant's hands. Not the hands of a prince, pampered from birth. "Your hands are rough," she muttered and, in the windowshop's reflection, she saw his expression darken.

"Let's go," he grunted and held her hand the entire way to the cemetery.

oOo

It was empty, cold, and desolate. Not a soul was in the graveyard. It was a sea of tombstones, of loved ones and friends buried under the earth, never to return.

"I'm not King Bae's biological son," Derek said softly as they picked their way through the cemetery. Chloe nodded. "Until I was ten, I worked on a farm, with my drunk of a father, Zachary Cain." She remembered him faintly; wasn't there something in a newspaper about him?

"I never understood what he did, as far as living was…until I turned eleven. I stumbled across what my dad did; he killed people." Her foot caught on a grave marker and she tumbled, scraping the edge of her leg on the sharp corner.

"He killed them, Chloe. I'm the son of a murderer." Derek paused. "My mom died and I think that's why Zachary hated me; I took away the love of his life. And it didn't help that I had her eyes." He brushed away his hair and she watched him. "Kit adopted me when Simon met me and, from then on, I was Derek, just Derek. But, when Simon's uncle, Carson, died, unexpectedly, Kit became king." He gripped her hand and helped her over someone's freshly dug grave; she stared at the freshly turned dirt.

"People knew who I was. I was a monster's son." A brittle laugh escaped him but it sounded sad, and tired, but mostly sad. She slipped her hand into his with a weak smile. "I was five when my mom died. An accident." Another smile, a flicker of a broken boy with a broken heart and a sad life full of misguided trust and dying family.

"I remember I came home from playing. Dad was blindingly drunk already; bottles of whiskey scattered all over the floor."

When the reached a grave marked _Agitha Souza, _they paused and he plucked a Lily out of the flowers she held. He placed it on the dead grass and whispered, pressing his lips to the cold, dead stone, "Hello, mama. I want you to meet Chloe." He glanced over at her, his green eyes pleading, begging her to do what he said, and she imagined a smiling woman with Derek's eyes gazing down at them as she got to her knees and stroked the earth.

"Hello, Agitha," she whispered, eyes trained on the weathered words. "My name is, well, I suppose you already know it. Derek's been very kind to me." She hummed.

"He's very kind, very gentle. He treats me like I matter; like I'm Chloe, not Steve's daughter, not some princess he has to impress, not some freak who likes her mother." Chloe realized belatedly that she was babbling but everything was unraveling—tears dripped down her cheeks, slow, hot—she gripped at the earth, gritty soil sticking under her fingernails, scratching against her sensitive skin.

"Derek calls himself a monster's son, a murderer's boy," she whispered, "but he's not. His father may be a monster but you…you were like the light in the darkness, shining away, banishing everything evil in Derek. He's a good, honest man; I couldn't ask for a better husband. He protects me, he confides in me, he loves me…I love him, Agitha. I really d-d-do. And s-s-see? I-I've go-ot an embarrassing stutter. R-real princesses d-don't stutter." She laughed and wrapped her arms around herself, hugging hard.

"He's so gentle with me; he makes me feel important and alive, he makes me feel wanted and seen, not unnoticed," Chloe said. "He makes me feel…amazing and wonderful and all these things I've never bee." She wiped at her nose, a slick trail of snot ruining her sleeve.

"I love you," she blurted out and her cheeks flamed when he smiled down at her. She shivered. "I love you," she repeated, her cheeks hot. "I know," he murmured and then he was on his feet, eyes sweeping the area.

"Let's go say hi to Jennifer, Chloe," he suggested softly, kissing her cheek. She went bright red and stammered something, rising with his help. She thought she caught a glimpse of someone hovering over Agitha's grave but brushed it off; there weren't such things as spirits.

When they planted themselves in front of Jennifer's grave, Chloe set down the flowers and smiled weakly, sitting down. "Uh, hi, uh, Jennifer," Derek began awkwardly, looking abashed. Chloe sank down beside him and slid her hand into his. "Hi, Mom. This is Derek."

"Yeah, what she said," he mumbled and she burst into laughter. She felt light, content and happy as her husband-to-be spoke to her mother in the ground. She grinned.

"Let's go."

_So…proud_…She turned towards the cemetery, catching a glimpse of blonde hair mingled with black.

Shrugging to herself, she followed Derek, his hand clasped tightly in hers, the Lilies blooming and shining in the light drizzle that followed them home.


	9. Chapter 9

**Valore, Princes and Bad Guys**

Nine

LaCRYmonsa-Evanescence

The whispers were louder than usual, he noticed as he sat in his throne room, watching as his men ended the life of a young boy. The man swirled his wine glass casually, watching the dark red liquid splash over the edge and drip down the sides.

"Your Majesty," said of the guards, a woman named Margaret, kneeling down beside his throne. The king glanced at her and waved his fingers. The boy's body was dragged away, leaving streaks of red on the tile floor.

The king tugged his cloak tighter around his naked body as Margaret crawled on her hands and knees and kissed his feet. "We've located the boy and his companions," she told him, her warm, moist breath fanning across his toes. "Good," he rumbled as he stroked his fingers through her hair. The woman purred in delight as his fingers worked through her chestnut hair.

"Anything else?" asked the man. "The heir has been found," Margaret added quietly, "and he's betrothed to a young girl from Jennifer's loins." The king didn't reply, just stroked her hair and the woman relaxed. Abruptly, his knee jerked out and hit her in the throat, causing her to crash backwards and gag and choke.

"A child from that woman's loins will be the _end _of my kingdom!" he snarled and the sound sent several of the children held captive scattering. "O-Of course, your Majesty," stammered the guard, lowering her forehead to the ground. The imposing man rose to his feet and his words reverberated off the walls. He paced as he spoke.

"A child from Jennifer Fellows's loins shouldn't have even _occurred_, filthy woman. She was _barren_; the cancer ate away at her fertility and by the time she married Steve, she shouldn't have been able to birth a child, much less _conceive. _And in the off chance that she did, that child should've died with the mountain ash my spies gave her each day!" he ranted, running his hands through his thick, black hair. His wedding band gleamed in the light that streamed from the cathedral's stained glass windows.

"W-we gave her every d-dose you ordered us to, sire," Margaret squeaked, trembling. The king stopped pacing as a thought solidified. "What if…what if she knew she was being poisoned?" he asked softly. "S-sire?" "Jennifer was an intelligent woman; she would've out figured out something was amiss," he muttered, rubbing the stubble on his jaw.

His robes fluttered open and his bare chest flashed. A nasty scar, puckered like it was healing still, stood out against his porcelain flesh, running from one shoulder to his hip, like he'd been cut in half. "Jennifer was always like that, picking up on things she shouldn't have. And look where it got her: killed!"

He dropped off his robes and stalked towards Margaret. He was naked. "Find out _everything _you can about her."

"Who?"

"Jennifer's daughter." His dark, nearly black eyes glowered down at the woman cowering and she quickly nodded. "Go, get out of my sight, you worthless maggot," he snapped and she did as she was told, scrambling for the door. He sighed and walked down to the bathroom chambers, kicking those in his way. As soon as the heavy doors swung shut, he headed for the bath and the heat made his muscles loosen.

He sank into the water and smiled. "You thought you could outsmart me, didn't you, Jennifer? Thought I wouldn't find out about your daughter? You may have been smart, for a woman, but I'll _always _be superior. I have the resources, the money, the man power. I have the brains." The water lapped at his neck, hot, steam peeling off the foamy surface.

A smirk rose.

"Even as children, you always thought you could outsmart me. maybe that stupid sister of yours, maybe your husband, but not me. I'm smarter. Stronger." He yawned. "You thought you could hide away your worthless daughter?" he asked the ceiling, eyes closed.

Water beads dripped down his handsome face as he sat there, soaking up the heat, thinking. "You can't hide her forever, Jennifer. I'll find her. I always found you, come to think of it, when we played in my father's garden." He smiled at the memory of chasing her through the bushes, catching her, watching her cheeks flame red as she grew embarrassed and angry over being bested by a "royal brat" as she called him so many times.

"I outsmarted everyone, even at a young age. You were the only woman I could never have, never catch." His wine spilled out of the glass and into the clear water, weaving down like ink. He smiled softly as the blood ran into the water.

"It's the day, Jenny," he laughed as he poured the blood-filled glass over his head and it ran in rivulets down his porcelain skin, a river of crimson. He could feel the energy from the blood race through his skin, seep into his muscles. "I told you I'd find her, and here I am, surveying her. Watching her. Waiting to make my move, just like I promised you all those years ago." He grinned and his canines flashed. He looked feral in the low lighting, an animal closing in for the kill, blood and water dripping off his nude form.

His muscles flexed as he laughed and flopped back down, waves of water splashing over the edges. "I'll find you, Chloe Saunders, and I'll end you, just like I ended her, so long ago. I'm coming for you _both_. I'm coming for them, just like I said, just like I promise, and you can't stop me, no, not this time." His laugh bounced off the walls and several pigeons scattered outside, blotting out the sun.

A servant scurried in with a big, black bottle without a label. The king turned, his eyes narrowing. The young child trembled under his gaze and he smirked, grabbing the bottle from her. "It's reckoning!" he whispered to her, leaning close so she could smell the blood of the disobedient on his skin. She nodded quickly but not quick enough; he took her head in his hands and twisted sharply.

Her neck snapped and her lifeless body crumpled to the floor.

"I'm coming for you…" the king whispered, "…my son."


	10. Chapter 10

Sorry about not updating on all my DP stories. I went on an eight day trip to Tennessee and the wifi was shit.

* * *

**Valore, Princes and Bad Guys**

Ten

Narcissistic Cannibal-Early Rise

The thorn crown sat uncomfortably on his head as he glanced about the room. "I have called you here," said the Dark King, lacing his fingers to prop up his scarred chin, turning his attention to the strategy map on the table, "to discuss my son, heir to my throne, and his bride to be, a little girl by the name of Chloe."

A maid poured more blood-wine into his cup and he took the bottle from her. "She's fifteen, sire," said a tall, thin man with a hawkish nose. Prime Minister Davidoff. "Her height is four-foot-ten and she weighs ninety-six pounds."

The king shot the minister a look. "Not basic information," he spat as he oh so calmly hurled the bottle at the man's head. It exploded and rained red. "M-my apologies, your majesty," the soaked man stammered. "She walks. In the mornings…and at night," the minister said.

"That could work in our favor," murmured the king. "Get me my Black Rune team." Several women scurried out of the room. "What about the boy?"

"He mainly stays inside, often glued to her hip. Won't let her do anything alone. Paranoid perhaps?" Dr. Gil, a renowned observer of the criminally insane, murmured, flipping through her notes. Wisps of hair escaped her braid. "When confronted, he will walk away if he can and if he can't, he runs like the devil's on his heels."

"Run like hell," the king chuckled. His friend had taught the boy well, helping him channel his rage into something less…aggressive, more passive. When he took Jennifer's child away, the boy would surely follow, and then, only then, could he teach his son about _true _power, true _strength. _

"The Black Archive team has arrived, your majesty," said Margaret as she crawled on her hands and knees and kissed his rings. He beckoned them and a team of about forty men crowded into the room. The leader was the king's age, with graying brown hair and three nasty scars across his throat, like a cat had taken a swipe at him.

"Your majesty," murmured the leader as he bowed on one knee, a fist on his heart. "You may stand," the king suggested and the Black Archive team got to their feet. Several men coughed, some leaned back against the walls casually.

"What do you need, sir?" the leader of Black Archive asked, his serious brown eyes meeting the king's. "I need you, and your team, to kidnap her." He slid a picture of Chloe across the table. "The princess of Buffalo?"

"Yes. And the boy, with the black hair and green eyes, is to follow her. Bring her back here and he will trail like an animal after his master," sneered the king, cracking his knuckles. "When?" someone in the back asked. "In four days' time."

The king picked up a pile of papers. "Make sure Derek can see you take her," he added, dipping his quill tip in the red blood wine in his glass. "Don't use _any _names around her, only Alpha One and Beta Six," the leader told his team.

"Oh, and watch them for a few days. Get a feel for them," suggested the king and sent them off.

oOo

The warehouse was just the right height for his team to spy on the castle. Maids and servants bustled in and out; every now and then, the leader of Black Archive would catch a glimpse of the boy's sister and brother and adoptive father. Of course hew as the only one who knew the boy's biological father's identity, just like the kind was the only one who knew who _he _was.

He sat in the tree, camouflaged with leaves as he watched the events unfold on the street. Children played in muddy puddles; street women sold themselves off corners; peddlers tried to sell things—business as usual. It was as he was putting down his magnifying glasses that he spotted them: Chloe and the king's son, heading up the steps, her arm tucked into his.

The leader leaned forward, watching them interact. The girl was a natural beauty, not busty or striking; strawberry blonde hair gleamed down her back in a curtain of loose curls and big blue eyes blinked up at the prince; she was dressed in a modest pink gown with a bow pinned in her hair.

The boy was sharp, intimidating and dark, just like his father. Tendrils of ebony covered his head and curled just above the nape of his neck, his green eyes (he'd inherited them from his mother) flickered every where, scanning, searching, and his cheeks were flushed bright red with acne. He was a strike contrast to the girl's pink with an all made ensemble.

He paused outside the door, turning around as he looked about. His eyes drifted from the ground to the skyline, searching building tops and trees. When the boy's eyes rested on the tree the leader was in, the man held his breath until he felt dizzy and his vision began to go hazy.

The girl appeared, grabbed at the boy's arm and said something. His cheeks went red as he turned his attention away from the leader and headed inside. The leader laid on his back and caught his breath, making sure he wouldn't pass out before he headed back to the base.

"A few cuts of meat," one of his men, the finest cook out of all of them, was saying when he entered the data base. The leader wiped the sweat from his brow and decided to hit the shower.

Steam filled his lungs with each breath as he stood under the hot spray, his eyes shut. The men outside laughed and snorted, unaware of their leader having a little breakdown. Tori had grown into a beautiful young lady; Simon was handsome and Kit…he looked older, worn.

"You okay?" someone asked as they knocked on the door. "Yeah, fine," the leader lied. How could he have faked his own death and turn to a life of killing and kidnapping for the infamous Dark King?

As the leader dressed, he didn't see the scary man leading a dangerous team. He saw a man named Andrew Carson, former king of Buffalo, New York.

Andrew Carson should've died the day the Dark King had asked him to assist.


	11. Chapter 11

**Valore, Princes and Bad Guys**

Eleven

Inokori Sensei-JubyPhonic 

Derek was no coward, that much he knew. He bulldozed through the complications in his life and never left any room for argument; he never ran from his problems. Until he met Chloe, at least. But that would come a little later.

A light drizzle dampened his shoulders and hair as he drew back his arrow, fingers braced against the feathers, feeling his muscles ache in a tender, familiar way, like being embraced into a mother's breast.

"You're going to get sick," said a voice. He adjusted his position, widening his stance and straightening his shoulders. The bowstring hummed with built-up energy as Derek let his fingers drop, the bow sailing through the air with a shrill sound that cut through the thrum of rain.

He cast a glance in the voice's direction. "Hello, Chloe," he said softly, managing a half-attempted smile before he set down his bow. "I didn't know you shoot a bow like Robin hood," she told him, looking surprisingly unaffected by the cold water splashing down, her pink dress soaked and clinging to her slight frame, the small swell of her breasts, the sides of her girlish hips. Limp curls clung to her cheeks as she picked up the hem of her skirt and made her way down the steps, a smile on her face.

"Hello, Derek," she said and he saw that her cheeks were flushed, as though she were cold. She shivered and wrung out a wet piece of hair absently. "Get inside," he told her. "Put down the bow and come in with me," she demanded softly, a look on her face that screamed, _I'm not going in without you. _

She looked paler than snow in the light, a bit of fear in her eyes as he set down his bow in the quiver and handed it to the servant standing beside him. "Thank you, Austin," he told the boy, no younger than his betrothed, who nodded and scurried away.

"Did something happen?" Derek asked, wrapping an arm around Chloe's thin, bony shoulders as they headed up the back steps. A servant opened the door and they stepped into the hallway, warmth hitting their bodies.

"A-ac-actually," she began hesitantly and he wiped away her hair from her cheek. "It's…it's about the Dark King," she whispered. Terror flooded through him, despite his controlled breathing techniques. "The Dark King?" he echoed, like he didn't have a clue as to who that was. Quite contrary, actually.

"Yes." She blinked several times, hard, looking as though she'd burst into tears. "It seems…it seems he's back and he's looking for his son." Something in his chest broke as his heart hammered its way through his ribcage, pounding furiously as his mouth went dry. "What does that have anything to do with me?" he hissed and she recoiled, hugging herself. "I-I…" she began uncertainly, the tips of her ears coloring. "I-I think he's looking f-for you."

Blood thundered in his ears like horse hooves, drowning out the sound of Chloe's voice. This wasn't real; this wasn't _happening._ She was joking, right? A quick glance at her pallor skin and terrified face told him she really, _really _wasn't. A heavy weight constricted his chest and he began to breath quickly and shallowly, feeling everything fade away.

_I think he's looking for you. _

**It was only a matter of time, Derek, before someone put the pieces together. **

_What do you mean? _

**You and I _both _****know what I mean. With your father's body count, I'm surprised people didn't track all the way to Sacramento—**

"Derek?" Chloe's worried face peered up at him, her cheeks flushed and nose pink. Water clung to her pale lashes and her hair. "I'm fine," he muttered, more so to himself than to her question. "No," she said boldly, "you aren't. You've gone all pale-faced, like you've seen a dead man."

"Good night, Chloe," he sighed and made for his rooms. "It's barely passed four!" she cried and reached out to grab his arm. Her big, blue eyes gazed up him with a furrow between her pale brows, her face reddening even more when he tried to shake her off.

"Ch—" he started.

"Don't brush me off!" she yelled out loudly and cringed, dropping her hands quickly before placing them back onto his arm again. Every time Derek closed his eyes, all he saw were the bodies, piled high, some still dying, their guttural moans weak and raspy. The smell of dark, wet earth invaded his senses and he threw her from his arm, watching her bounce. "Don't touch me," he spat. He was looming above her, only seeing the fear and terror across her face and that fueled his fire.

The hot, burning anger was growing to blazing heights, climbing higher and higher until he saw it on the backs of his lids. "You think I'm a monster, don't you? Just like him," he whispered, his voice barely recognizable for the quiet tone. "N-no—" she stopped and yelped as he grabbed her by the arm, looking into her big eyes. She couldn't hide the fear in them, no matter how hard she tried.

"That's all I ever am, aren't I? The bastard monster's son? The Slayer of Sacramento's son? I deserve death for what I am."

She was whimpering and crying now, clawing at his hand.

"Just stay away, please." He let his hand drop and saw the reddening skin, darkening now, turning black and purple and blue. Tears filled her eyes as she stared up at him in horror, her face pinched with pain and paler than snow.

"Just stay away from me, Chloe. I'm no good for you," he said brokenly, feeling the lump in his throat get bigger and his own tears fill his eyes. He turned and ran like a coward.

oOo

The storm grew darker and darker; outside, rain howled and lashed against the stone walls. It sent chills down his spine as he remembered the dank smell of wet soil, the cold skin as he tripped and the lantern hit the ground and he caught a glimpse of the bodies. He saw a flash of mutilated skin, marred with burns and cuts, the cloudy pupils staring at him helplessly.

"Derek!"

It was Simon, his face paler than the lightening outside, at his door, terror written all over his face. "It's Chloe!"

Derek bolted upright and sprang towards his brother menacingly—unintentionally of course. "What do you mean? What's happened?" he demanded. Simon went quiet, hesitant before he spoke.

"She's been kidnapped." Simon braced himself.

"By who?" Derek snarled, his hands itching to rip the man to pieces.

"The Dark King."


End file.
